Minute
by Shizuku Tsukishima749
Summary: -Movieverse/Bookverse.- For those lost, it can only take a minute to return. The question is, will they stay? Susan and Peter Pevensie. Sibling Bonding Two-Shot.


_A/N: _I've been trying to get this up for a while now (two weeks!), but I've been so swamped with homework, tests, etc., that I really haven't had the time to edit this! Plus, considering I wrote all twelve pages in one day (now _just barely _fourteen--I added a lot!), it needed a lot of editing! lol. So, I _finally _finished today! Yay! However, I'm _exhausted_, so I'm sure I made some kind of mistake somewhere.

**Important Notes: **This is a two-shot, dealing with Peter and Susan, respectively. Each of them lose faith at some point (Peter in the movie, Susan in the book-s-), and this chapter is Peter's movieverse one. It goes from the end of LWW to the end of PC, basically, including my speculation of what _could _have happened during their time between LWW and PC. There is also some Edmund and Peter brotherly bonding/love in here, for those who enjoy that (I know I do, just _not as incest_)!

**Basis: **The foundation for this is the idea that, for one minute, someone who is lost can be found again. Yet, after that, they will fall into the darkness once more and have to choose: they will either have to overcome their demons to make it back to the world of the 'living' or they'll descend deeper into the darkness and be eaten in the end. (The idea just came to me one day when I was thinking about how these two had changed during the movies and books. However, this summary was inspired by material from my Honors English class; in it, we really go into mythology, the mind, human nature, etc., so it gets really in depth and spiritual! So fun!)

**Sightings: **If you're wondering about the speech lessons, chivalry lessons, and worry about school, I got the ideas from Ruan Chun Xian's fic called, 'A Challenge of Speech.' It's a brilliant story dealing with basically what the Pevensies were in that paragraph: going back to school and learning English etiquette and speech over again (read it!). Yet, I pray I used them in an original enough way. I _love _that story, and, really, I'd never thought about how they would overcome all of those issues until reading it. It made me think! lol.

Then, I think I used an idea from one of Sentimenal Star's stories, too, but I can't remember if I completely did or not: the sentence about Susan's speculation that their return (and as children, at that) had been a way of starting over, a way for them to grow up as the normal children they'd never gotten to be because of their destinies. Read her stories!! They are _insanely amazing_!!

For the last two paragraphs, though, I don't think I did much wrong. I mean, they're not the only ones to think of these things, right? If that's wrong, _please don't hurt me_!

_Disclaimer: _I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia. C.S. Lewis (_beautiful_ man that he is) does, along with Fox 11 Studios/Productions and Walden Media. Anyone and anything affiliated does not belong to me either.

* * *

**Minute**

One year without Narnia was murdering them. Six months without their brother was the complete obliteration of their hearts and souls…and he didn't even see it.

When it was seen, hunting the White Stag in the fall months was a customary adventure for the Four Sovereigns. During such a Hunt in the fifteenth year of their reign, hailed as the Golden Age by their subjects, it had shocked even the Calormenes—though that bewilderment had quickly turned to wicked cackling—when it was reported through a frantic Philip, King Edmund's Talking Horse and the only true witness to the Scene, that the Kings and Queens of Narnia had disappeared through a copse of trees beyond Lantern Waste's lamp-post and never returned.

In truth, though their beloved people would never know it, the sibling rulers had followed the unsuspecting youngest, Queen Lucy the Valiant, back through the very wardrobe that had first begun their fairytale-akin lives years prior.

The sudden, unfelt transition from twenty-eight to thirteen, from twenty-seven to twelve, from twenty-five to ten, and twenty-three to eight had been hard for them all. When the Professor had walked in to find them sprawled on the floor, they had still been staring at each other and themselves, speechless and slowly realizing what had happened.

That had been five months and twenty-five days ago.

After living in and ruling a fantastic kingdom for fifteen years, they were adjusting as well as could be expected.

For the small things, like speech, habits of chivalry, and other such mannerisms, months of reminders and private meetings with the old man were slowly getting them to a place where they wouldn't be shunned or much whispered about in public England. However, the children still considered their true ways vital beacons of hope in their lives and made an important effort to gather in secret to tell stories in their Old Tongue and conduct themselves as they once had.

The emotional burdens that came with leaving their home were not so easily ignored. With only the knowledge of the Professor, they spent their nights in one bedroom, pajama-clad boys and girls in separate beds. Until they felt safe enough in so foreign a place, they didn't want to be without each other; indeed, after living in such close proximity for so long, it was difficult to find any sense of peace to match the one that was borne of the Four together.

Though Lucy's faith that Aslan must mean something for them in this world kept her grounded, it had taken moons for her to accept the fact that she hadn't been the one to lead them away. Her siblings had convinced her in their own ways. Peter had smiled softly at her, saying they were home as long as they were united; Edmund had spoken reminiscently with her, chasing away her guilt with a recount of his conversation with Aslan the day after their coronation; Susan had gently hugged her, wiping away her tears and sending her beaming.

They were all right. They were fine. They were _whole_, and that was all they needed to know.

This day, today, was different; they noticed it the moment they opened their eyes.

Glancing at their siblings' faces and instantly understanding the anxious looks in their eyes, the boys stood from the bed and held their heads high, chins out and eyes hardening; the girls playfully pulled each other from their own bed, grasping each other's hands as warm smiles lit their faces, a more severe look to Lucy's blue orbs as they turned to face their brothers.

Peter and Edmund allowing the girls to leave the bedroom first, there was a comfortable silence as they made their way down to the dining room and ate breakfast. Such a hush was not regular for the children, and they were not surprised when the Professor popped in and asked if they were all right.

Noticing the twinkles in their eyes, the man grinned. They had told him their story the day after their return, gradually getting over their astonishment at how well he could read them. Even their Centaur General, Oreius, had sometimes had trouble discerning their real feelings.

They smiled back, and after Mrs. Macready took their breakfast dishes, there was a special, yet sad glimmer in his eyes as he held up a letter. They stood quietly and followed him to his study, shutting the door before taking their usual places on the carpet in a tight knot; Lucy was lying with her head in Susan's lap, one of Peter's arms was wrapped around Edmund's neck from behind, Susan was holding Peter's hand, and Edmund was resting one outstretched leg over both of Lucy's.

"This letter is from your Mother, children," He had told them long ago that they would have to get used to being labeled by their appearances again, demeaning though it might be. So far, they had accepted it. "Would you like to hear it?"

Though they hadn't remembered a thing of their indigenous world when they'd first come back, the past several months had given them time to rework their memories. They remembered their Mother now, the kind, worried woman they'd left behind on the train station platform, although her face was still rather unclear.

They weren't sure what they felt for her or their Father. Even Edmund, who had been the closest to the man before he'd been called to serve, couldn't remember his face, but he could bring to mind that he was strong and caring.

Despite the warring emotions, they nodded; they hoped to see both parents soon enough, and they would sort out their feelings then.

He obliged, and though they raptly paid attention, their eyes were foggy by the end. The paper and ink did not say much, aside from the news that she was missing them terribly, that their Father was doing well, and that the raids were finally over.

All the same, at the final word, a plaintive silence settled.

They could go home? They could see their Mother and, if Aslan permitted them, their Father, too? But…leaving would mean…

They turned to him, puzzled, conflicted faces bearing no little fear. It was not difficult to perceive why.

Besides each other, he was their only source of comfort for the frequent bouts of homesickness that bombarded them, the yearning for their true home sometimes so heavy that they could not be cheered for hours at a time. Without him…what were the exiled Golden Monarchs-turned-children to do?

He merely gave a sympathetic smile, eyes softening as he gazed at the tiny adults before him.

"Don't fret, my Kings and Queens. You'll be all right," He eyed Lucy as he said the next part, and the other three beamed. "Have faith in the Lion, as one of your own does." Appearing thoughtful, he abruptly gave the impression of having a wonderful idea as his expression brightened and he clapped his hands.

Laughing gently, Edmund asked, "What is it, sir?"

"Oh, do forgive me. I only just thought of something I should have figured out long ago. This old age is catching up to me, it seems," He shook his head and chuckled. "While you four are away from here, whether at home or at school, I give you exclusive permission to write or call me whenever you'd like. And, if I haven't much work and it's all right with your Mother, perhaps she'd let you come for a visit during one of the holidays!"

Smiling excitedly, gratefully, the earlier gloom seemed to have left them, and the man was relieved. Even so, after a mere, few seconds, their eyes showed only the faintest film of doubt.

They didn't want to leave the only place in all of England where they felt accepted, where they were believed and understood without question. They didn't want to venture out into an alien world where, no matter how much coaching they received or how hard they worked to hide it, they would be seen as aliens themselves.

For the strongest rulers Narnia had ever known, the Kings and Queens of Old were quite afraid.

* * *

Four days later, it was time to leave. Assuming brave fronts at the small, country station a few miles from his house, they smiled and talked with him as easily as always, telling stories of their time in Narnia.

The sole thing that betrayed them was how tightly they grasped his hands, the way they tensed when a buggy rudely sounded its horn, the grief that shrouded their eyes and modified their voices.

When the train finally pulled up, they were reluctant to board, but Peter, after giving the older man a hearty handshake and meaningful look, led the way. Staying behind to help the others, he watched as Edmund mimicked him and their sisters gripped the man in appreciative, adoring embraces. Quickly climbing on and finding a compartment, they leaned out the window, girls in front and boys in back as they waved goodbye, a few tears escaping the girls' eyes.

The Professor reciprocated the gesture until they were out of sight, a sad smile on his lips as he silently walked back to the mansion with Mrs. Macready, who had come with them and chosen to stay on the dirt road.

He couldn't be sure, of course, but he suspected that the old maid had taken more than a slight liking to the children during their stay and was just as unhappy as he to have them gone.

* * *

For the majority of the train ride, they had a compartment to themselves. Further conversing about their real home to pass the time, Aslan was made the most prominent feature in their discussion.

Hours later, their stop came, the name of the town of London as unfamiliar to them as everything else. While relieved at the opportunity to stretch their legs, as they stepped off the train, they were immensely startled to hear their names being called by an unknown voice.

Perplexed expressions flitted across their features, but they weren't able to hold them long. Suddenly finding themselves strongly wrapped in the arms of a stranger caused them to stiffen and reach for their weapons.

Yet, the shock of coming into contact with nothing but air was more earth-shattering than the hugs, than the instantly recognized face of the woman who stepped back and cried tears of joy as she examined them.

They had grown used to their missing arms in the six months at the Professor's, but feeling the same sensation in a completely different, completely _populated_ place was incomparably unnerving.

At last, they snapped from their sentiments and forced smiles, forced themselves to act enthusiastic and loving toward this Mother they no longer knew.

Somehow sensing they were not quite ready or in the mood for a happy reunion, Mrs. Pevensie laid a hand on her eldest child's back and took her youngest offspring's hand, not noticing how hard they had to fight to stop themselves from flinching.

The drive home was silent. The children were holding hands, Peter's stretching from the front seat to the back to hold Edmund's as he held Lucy's and she held Susan's.

Their Mother watched them warily out of the corner of her eye, worried for their quiet and unusual closeness. She was pleased to see that they had gotten much closer during their time away, that they no longer fought like…like the _youngsters_ they were, but that was what scared her.

They didn't seem to fit the molds of children anymore; not _her _children, at least. Her children, Edmund, Lucy, Susan, and Peter, would have been scowling, talking, reading, and laughing—they wouldn't be so changed after only six months. Whatever had happened to them must have been something far more significant, something far bigger than any of them.

With an almost inaudible sigh, she resigned herself. She would not pine over this loss, this transformation that could very well have ripped her darlings from her. Rather, she would force herself to rejoice in the gifts this change would bring, painful as it was already.

A warm hand settled on her shoulder, much stronger than she recalled, and she turned the second she was met with a red light.

What she saw was a wearily grinning Peter, and although she could see he was doing a grand job of hiding his physical and emotional fatigue from her, there were some things a Mother just knew. Smiling back with the same tiredness, she leaned over to kiss his forehead, the sound of a horn from behind them causing her to quickly look back to the road and resume their journey.

Therefore, she did not notice that, upon laying the kiss, her eldest son's breath had stopped and his eyes had closed in contentment. With just that simple touch, he had recognized the feeling flowing through him as the one he had occasionally, unwittingly missed during their reign in Narnia: a Mother's love.

Removing themselves from the car was another business. Before the vehicle even came to a complete stop, Peter stepped out, walking around the vehicle and opening the door for her, holding out his hand to steady her as she stood. Closing her door with a smile, he did the same for his brother and sisters on the other side. Then, each of them spoke for the first time since they'd been collected.

They were just whispers; some secret game of theirs, one no doubt created by Lucy. Nonetheless, as she watched their beaming, lovely faces, and heard their different, seemingly years-ahead voices, they did not appear to be playing at anything. Laughs were heard then, light, amorous, kind, heartening, and there was nothing to keep her from quietly following suit.

There was a magnificence here, something blessed and gorgeous. Through the gray clouds above that foretold impending rain, Mrs. Pevensie swore sunlight bathed only them in golden, dazzling radiance.

She smiled, a little sadly.

They looked…other-worldly, and yet…still human.

Still hers.

Still _different_.

"Come on, kids," That phrase seemed so wrong now, so harsh and bitingly offensive. "Let's get inside before it starts to pour."

Peter turned to her and smiled, blue eyes shining. As Lucy frowned a bit and politely protested, saying she _liked _the rain, he scooped her up in his arms. She threw her arms around his neck and buried her head into his shoulder, smiling as he whispered in her ear.

Edmund stepped back from the door of the house, bowing sweepingly and giving Susan a secret smile as he allowed her and their Mother to precede him. Setting Lucy down and making sure the three women were comfortable, the brothers rushed outside to grab the suitcases from the car in hopes of beating the rain. They just made it, for the moment they closed the door, a streak of lightning and crash of thunder almost simultaneously woke the sky.

The four children and mother talked softly for a while in the dining room, gathered around the table and sipping the hot cocoa Susan had volunteered to make. They spoke of the green expanse behind the Professor's house where they'd played cricket and read books, the stiff politeness with which Mrs. Macready had treated them, and the kindness shown to them by their host.

They became quiet when Lucy tentatively brought up the queer subject of a wardrobe she'd found in a spare room. Mrs. Pevensie glanced at all of them curiously, noticing the pensive, almost lonely expressions they wore. Nevertheless, she blinked, and they were cheerful again.

Hours passed, and it was nearly seven in the evening when Susan muffled a yawn and graciously asked if she could be excused to unpack, the others wondering the same. Their Mother smiled and nodded, bidding each of them goodnight before they left.

Lucy beamed and practically shot at her, squeezing her middle firmly and kissing her on the cheek prior to dashing upstairs. Susan wrapped her arms around her tenderly, whispering in her ear that she had missed her very much. Peter wound his arms around her neck and pressed his face into her hair, inhaling the long-absent scent of lilacs, grinning at her as he pulled back. She couldn't keep the tears from her eyes when Edmund, her youngest, angriest son, lunged at her and embraced her tighter than the others had, unashamedly crying a few tears of his own.

She went upstairs later that night, around nine, and was surprised to hear more than two voices from the boys' room. Peeking in through the slightly open door, she saw Lucy sleeping with her head on Edmund's chest as he lay on his bed, speaking in low tones to Peter and Susan as they sat on the older boy's bed, the girl with her head on her brother's shoulder as he had an arm around her waist.

Over the subsequent six days, that was the ritual. They relaxed, talked, and fell asleep together, wishing only for the companionship of one another. They spent time with their Mother, of course, feigning eagerness when the letters from their Father were read aloud, eating meals and conversing with her.

They were content.

* * *

Then, on the seventh day of their first week home, Peter walked through the door with a bloody nose, Edmund trailing behind him with a black eye. Their Mother screamed, and Susan and Lucy rushed into the room. They gasped.

The older girl paled, dazedly steadying herself against the wall as memories haunted behind her eyes. Her sister, on the other hand, kept most of her color as she narrowed her eyes and set her jaw. Moving forward, she took her brothers' hands and led them to the bathroom. Silently, she tended to their injuries with a deftness frightening to see in a nearly-turned nine-year-old, doing her best with the meager supplies England provided.

Such happenings continued to occur, nearly every day for a total of six months. Each time, Peter would come home hurt, a battered Edmund with him, and each time, Lucy would clean and dress their wounds, saying nothing.

When asked by his weeping Mother why he had changed so suddenly, so drastically, he would merely turn his head away and never give her an answer. It wasn't that he didn't want to offer a reason; it was just…the truth was very personal, very secret.

When the girls, his Queens, inquired the same on behalf of their younger brother, he would respond with a snappy reply. They couldn't know; it would only hurt them.

Edmund wanted to get to the bottom of it, too. The Just King, the Judge, knew how to decipher his brother better than anyone. He had fought with him in countless wars, traveled with him on numerous sea-and-land campaigns, ruled with him at their sisters' sides, and simply been with him for so many years… He _knew _Peter. He wouldn't act as he was for the thrill.

* * *

Consequently, one night, he was given the answer. He had already guessed what was being revealed to him by a crying Peter, had earlier relayed his suspicions to his sisters if only to calm their nerves, but he indulged his brother and listened as he poured out his heart.

"We never did anything wrong, Edmund! There was no reason for us to have been sent away, for our lives to have been taken! We served Aslan faithfully; we brought Narnia into the most prosperous, peaceful age She'd ever known!" Peter looked up at him, face red and cerulean eyes bloodshot from all of the crying. "We did _nothing_…!"

The older boy crumpled against his brother, clutching him tightly as his tears soaked Edmund's shoulder. The younger boy hugged him back, closing his eyes and trying to block out the miserable sobs erupting from his eldest sibling's throat. Even as Kings, one thing neither of them had ever learned to handle well was the other's sorrow.

He knew these skirmishes were much more to his brother than measly fist fights between boys. Peter was a beautiful country's _High_ _King_, for goodness' sake, one that had been forced from his land for an indefinite reason at an innocent, deservedly happy time.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, forcing back his own tears, Edmund spoke.

"You think this punishment, Brother?" Speaking in their private, Old Tongue felt better than he could say. "We have bled for and governed a country with might and faith, do not doubt that. But," He took his brother's shoulders gently and held him at less than arm's length to look him in the eyes. "No matter what we have done or failed to do, the Lion would never forsake us," His final words were soft, earnest, flowing over the gentlest smile. "My King, this is known by us _all_."

Peter did not say another word for the rest of the night, gripping Edmund as if his life depended on it and crying until he fell asleep on top of him. Thinking, the younger boy let him stay there, absentmindedly running his fingers through his brother's hair.

This wasn't a punishment, no. But…if it wasn't that, what was it? What other reason could there be for precariously placing them back into the malevolent grip of their old world, into those same, utterly _wrong _hands that were gradually constricting their airflow? As Peter had expressed numerous times…how had they been so blind as to believe they would rule Narnia for the rest of their days?

Shortly after their return, Susan had mulled over the fact that their situation could be seen as a chance to start over, to live the lives they had never been able to explore because of their impromptu sovereignty at such tender ages. It was a good idea, but one that had been rapidly, respectfully shot down. That couldn't be it, not when all they wanted was for things to be as they once were.

Then…had they _unknowingly _committed a crime against Aslan or His Father, done something so terrible that it would have caused their banishment? He chuckled without emotion; at any other time, Lucy would have glared at him and told him the Great Lion would never think of doing such a thing, that He surely would have told them if ever they had done something so dire in nature.

Transferring his hand to rest on Peter's arm as he finally began to drift off, other, ongoing conflicts sparked in Edmund's mind.

On top of the fights, there were the nightmares. They all had them, but for the most part, they afflicted the boys and Lucy. The youngest, as the Valiant Queen, had seen many a war, but never so many as her brothers.

In his or her sleep, one of them always reacted to the world of dreams-gone-awry, screaming, thrashing, sweating, and crying. The unaffected three awakened instantaneously, so attuned were they to one another by now. They rushed into the desired room as their haggard, pale Mother watched anxiously from the hall.

This had been happening since their first week home, but the children had done their best to hide it from her to keep her from worrying; all the same, her motherly instincts had alerted her to something being off, and she had discovered the truth quickly enough. From that point on, she had been worried sick.

Though it dimly hurt the Pevensie children to think it, the woman being so stressed and exhausted gave them an advantage.

They could run to the victim's side and wake him or her in the careful, practiced way they had been required to implement in Narnia without fear of their Mother _really _hearing them, without fear of being called 'crazy' or 'damaged' in their own home as they were outside it. They could comfort the vulnerable one with embraces, kisses, and soothing phrases, hear the description of the night-terror in the sufferer's words, stay with him or her for hours until they all fell asleep.

Indeed, it was an almost nightly occurrence.

The second, slightly worrying thing was Susan. She was relapsing; as before Narnia, she had resumed the evading art of throwing herself into her books, spending less and less time with her siblings in the process. She was afraid to face what was happening with Peter, with her once indestructible family at large, and she was distancing herself to get away.

Edmund could only hope that their High King would wake up soon, that their Mother that wasn't theirs would finally get some peace when the fall term began.

* * *

The next day, they received their school enrollment confirmation letters. Mrs. Pevensie took them out immediately to purchase their unfortunately expensive uniforms and supplies, and they put on the typical faces: happy to see their friends, but disappointed to have to go back to schoolwork.

The moment they were home and alone, they abandoned their disciplined restraint.

Laughing bitterly, Peter made the first, honest comment of the day.

"Yes, friends we don't even remember and schoolwork too terrifying to imagine."

Everyone else was silent. Then, restlessly bouncing on her folded legs as she sat on her bed, Lucy bit her lip.

"What are we going to do?" She hardly kept her voice from trembling. Switching positions, the nine-year-old hugged her knees to her chest as Edmund, sighing, plopped down ungracefully next to her.

"We'll go to school, Lu. We have no choice. Besides, it's—it'll be good for us."

"Good for us?! Who are you kidding, Ed?! We haven't gone to school since we found Narnia; we _abolished _it there! We barely know the meaning of the word anymore!" Peter was officially panicking, but its effect gave life to some of the fears that kept them from moving forward.

Edmund offered his brother a tiny smile, but the stony features of Peter's face made his grin disappear. The expression that overtook his countenance was one belonging to a hardened King, a boy delivered into manhood on the wings of the tragic beauties of death and resurrection, glory and disgrace, pain and joy. He was no longer eleven-year-old Edmund Pevensie; he was twenty-six-year-old King Edmund the Just of Narnia.

"We'll _make_ ourselves go through with it. I understand, you know it! It _won't _feel right, it _will _be scary…" Standing and kneeling before his brother, he rested a hand on his shoulder and gazed passionately into his eyes. "Peter, you know as well as I that we have to _try_. We've seen the shadows under Mum's eyes, the unhealthy, white shade of her face lately, and she doesn't talk to us nearly as much anymore. Her eyes get teary when she watches us; she doesn't know what to do with us, now that we're so different from the children she remembers."

"That's just it, though," Susan spoke up, her visage calm; only those who knew her as her siblings did knew the true torment occurring within. Unconsciously crossing her legs, she looked very much the Queen she had been at that age of thirteen. "She feels she's lost us, and she has, in a way. We're not her children anymore; certainly, we're not children at all. You nearly lost your lives for our country," Her eyes flickered over all three of her siblings for a second, settling pointedly on Edmund. "I nearly married someone completely obnoxious and dangerous for it," She generously hid her laugh behind her hand as her siblings shuddered; they had despised Prince Rabadash far more than she. Blue eyes at war, her next words were low. "We grew up in Narnia…" Even as the nonexistent remnants of her child's heart echoed long-dead cries of protest, she went ahead with the deciding verdict. While she was worried for the woman who had given birth to them, she knew none of them felt emotionally attached to her any longer. "She needs us, but we don't need her…"

"It's a vicious cycle, Su." The girl nodded, agreeing with her black-haired brother.

"We really have to do this, then?" Lucy's voice was strong, despite the fact that she was a shade paler than she had been earlier in the evening. None of her siblings had ever attempted to deny their pride in the youngest Monarch's valor, and they grinned; for Peter, it was the first time in months.

"Yes, Lu. I'm afraid we have to go." Her eldest brother spoke softly, concealing his feelings of betrayal and fear well. Even so, it wasn't enough; it never was.

After getting their turns with Edmund, the girls kissed him goodnight. With trained, watchful eyes, they examined him as they had so many times in Narnia.

Following every war, defeated or victorious either, they had scrutinized him in such a way, their sad eyes conveying the shining hope of wellness, while the repetitive knowledge that there was always something to be uncovered overpowered it with a thin shroud of doubt. More often than not, Edmund had been the worst hurt of the two, having been determined to stay as close to his brother as possible to keep him protected in the throng of battle and very often risking his own life to ensure Peter's.

The High King had hated that one aspect of war more than any other: his own family--as Lucy had joined them in the army at the age of sixteen, and Edmund had been in it since he was ten--felt compelled to potentially lay down their lives for the sake of a King of Narnia supposedly higher than they.

It wasn't true; it wasn't _right_.

Aside from Aslan, _they _were the highest beings in _his _eyes.

Following Edmund back to their room, he was lost in his thoughts, so much so that he relied purely on instinct as he began packing for the next day's trip to school.

In a different place--really, a different _world_--he didn't know where he held his siblings, let alone anything else. They were the most important things in his life, and he would gladly give anything he had for them; truly, he had _tried _to give them his life uncountable times, but they would hear none of it. All the same…

He was a boy here--a _schoolboy_--not a man--not a _King_--and the irrational idea that he might no longer be enough to protect them, might no longer be enough _for_ them was gradually, mercilessly smothering him.

"Peter," The fourteen-year-old gasped and stiffened in surprise as he was shaken from his thoughts, but he steeled himself from reaching for his achingly absent weapon as he recognized his brother's gentle whisper. In response, he said nothing, knowing what was coming and not wishing to hear it. "Peter, it willbe all right. I know it, as does He. Have faith, Brother."

The High King slowly raised himself from his bent position over his suitcase, eyes wide. No matter how well he knew his little brother, that was not what he had been expecting. As the boy was only standing a few paces behind him, he narrowed his eyes suspiciously as he turned around.

"What?"

Edmund sighed in exasperation. Unfurling his arms from across his chest, he smiled minutely and placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder before letting it fall.

"I know you're angry with me, and I'm sorry," The golden-haired boy could say nothing; in truth, he wasangry. When his brother's shoulders slumped in exhaustion, however, he almost couldn't remember why he felt that way at all. "Peter, Mum needs time to herself, to get accustomed to the changes in us, and—and perhaps we should inform her of the Professor's proposal," Closing his eyes for a moment, he pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to collect himself. "She needs a moment of rest, Peter."

"Yes," His exhaustion and weakness were made clear in the one, quiet word. "But…we deserve one, too, Ed. _We_ need sleep, _we_ need relief," Blue eyes pierced brown, and even as the majority of the sentiment was spoken aloud, the sacred, frequently more silent part was left unsaid: "We need to go _home_."

"I know." Edmund's answering undertone was practically missed as Peter threw himself onto his bed, lying on his back with his hands resting on his stomach. Crossing the room to lay on the unoccupied side, both boys closed their eyes and exhaled tiredly. Feeling between them for his brother's hand, Peter gathered it in his own and squeezed strongly.

"You know what I want, Edmund: _all _I want is to keep you and the girls protected. You_ know _that," Indeed, the younger King knew, as his nod only affirmed. "You know my reason for fighting…"

Another nod. It was sharp and quick upon coming, but slow in terms of getting there. Peter frowned.

He was silent for a long time.

After the quiet persisted, Edmund grew concerned. Rolling onto his side, the eleven-year-old barely bit back a laugh. A tender beam parted his lips and showed his teeth, and he brushed the bangs from his brother's forehead with an equally affectionate hand.

Peter, his poor, beautiful Peter, was asleep.

Blowing out the candle on his brother's nightstand, he plunged them into complete blackness as he carefully covered the short distance to his brother's side, settling himself on the mattress and bedclothes; though unfamiliar, it was the closest any of them were going to get to Cair Paravel's finery. Using Peter's chest for a pillow, he slid an arm around his brother's middle and molded the rest of his body to the form of his High King's.

He loved him, as he knew the girls did, no matter that he was so separate from the person they had known at one time.

In seconds, he was asleep.

* * *

Hours later, Peter woke with a start. Another dream, though, luckily, not a terrible one. Feeling an unremembered weight and heat on his upper half, he looked down. Though it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, he was soon able to identify the mystery object as a person. Specifically, said person was his brother, Edmund.

Peter furrowed his brow as he frowned, closing his eyes again. Releasing hot breath through his mouth and allowing his head to drop back and hit the pillow lightly, he couldn't help but let the regret he'd been feeling for months come to the surface in the form of tears.

Feeling he deserved the searing trails as they rushed down his face in rivers, he kept the ensuing sobs at bay with difficulty.

His brother didn't deserve to be treated the way he'd handled him tonight; _not one _of his siblings deserved how he'd been treating them for the past months. He knew why they accepted it; he wasn't blind, and as much as it hurt him to admit it, he still knew them. He could spy their love for him as easily as if it was written across their faces.

"You know I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." His soft, choked words did nothing to soothe the excruciating burning in his heart and soul.

Nothing… Not a _sound _from the boy who had told him so many times that he would be there, that he would never leave him alone or afraid...!

He sighed shakily and squeezed his eyes shut as further tears fell.

It wasn't Edmund's fault.

It had _never _been his fault.

Not one bit of it.

Peter opened his eyes and breathed, staring into the pitch darkness. Subconsciously, he reached down and started to finger a lock of Edmund's hair.

His brother had only tried to help him keep the family in order since being back. He'd done nothing wrong, nothing at all, and that was more than could be said in his minuscule favor.

Edmund, his beloved, just Edmund, so _tired_--from nightmares, from watching out for their sisters, Mother, and…and _him_--didn't appear to be planning on joining him in the conscious world for anything. Wiping the tears from his face with his pajama sleeve, he grinned a little as he traced the outlines of the eleven-year-old's face with loving eyes.

Carefully picking up the extra blanket from the floor beside his bed, the High King unfolded it and draped it over his brother. Finishing, he melted into the fluffy confines of the bed, closing his eyes and resting a fond hand on Edmund's head.

Aslan knew the younger boy needed a rejuvenating night's sleep, and Peter was thankful he was finally getting one. He could only pray the nightmares would stay well away tonight.

He was asleep before another thought could cross his mind.

* * *

Their Mother woke them early the next morning, barely giving them the time to eat a meager breakfast of an apple and piece of toast before rushing them to the car and driving them to the London station.

She hugged and kissed them lengthily, checked to make sure they had everything, and gave them tiny smiles. Gesturing to Peter, she entrusted his siblings to him; there were tears in her fatigued eyes as she stared at them, and they were suddenly very sure of the validity of Susan's assertion.

Watching her drive off, Peter felt numb again and couldn't take it. He tore his eyes away and looked to them, unsure how to make use of the hour at their disposal before their train arrived.

Susan, peering across the street, suddenly brightened and pointed to a newsstand she saw. The older boy nodded, and she kissed him on the cheek. Picking up her small suitcase, she cautiously crossed the road and, upon making it to the other side, plucked a newspaper from the rack and became immersed in her reading.

"Peter, may we go inside?" Lucy only just prevented her teeth from chattering; it had rained again the preceding night, and the air was still cold because of it. Feeling guilty as he eyed the thin, gray skirt that ended at his sister's knees, he noticed Edmund, standing at her side, had already taken off his school blazer and put it around her shoulders. Stepping forward, one hand on her back, Edmund flanked her other side as they entered the station.

Going down the stairs and turning a few corners, the three sat down on an open bench next to the boarding area. Laying her head on her dark-haired brother's shoulder, Lucy's eyes drooped. Staying awake became increasingly harder, and Edmund smiled in mildly amused sympathy.

"Please, go to sleep, Lu. I'll wake you when the train comes, I promise."

The girl nodded with the barest comprehension, and he shifted his weight to accommodate hers as she completely leaned against him, slumbering almost immediately.

Like Susan, the poor girl had been so distressed by everything going on with their family as of late that there had been a mounting decrease in the amount of sleep she'd been getting since leaving the Professor's, not counting the occasional nightmares. Contrasting with her sister, however, she had chosen to cling to her siblings and spend as much time with them as possible to keep them from utterly losing hope.

Abruptly, a loud growl came from Peter's stomach, and the boy blushed. Turning to Edmund, he stood and felt inside the pocket of his school pants for the money their Mother had given him to pay for food. Good, still there. Being aware of Lucy, he spoke in whispers.

"I'm going to find something to eat. Do you want anything?" Thinking of the only thing Peter would find in a train station no doubt already picked over by the other school-voyaging children, Cracker Jack Caramel Popcorn, he grimaced. He would never understand how his brother had acquired a liking for the stuff.

"No, thank you. I'll stay with Lucy." He talked back just as softly, giving his brother a smile.

The older boy turned. All of a sudden, a revolting, foreboding feeling gushed in Edmund's stomach and rose to greet his Adam's apple. He had come to know such a sensation unfortunately well in the last several months, and he could not let his brother go without being warned. Frantically jerking forward, at the same time being careful not to disturb his deeply snoozing sister, he was just able to grab the cuff of his brother's shirtsleeve and pull him backward.

Eyes wide, then narrow, Peter heatedly fixed his blue orbs on his ally-assailant. What was with him recently?

Since his fights had begun months ago, it seemed the exact situation had played out, time and again, whenever Peter had tried to leave the house. If the fourteen-year-old had paid attention to anything that had usually happened after those confrontations, something along the lines of another fight in which he would be involved and with which Edmund would come to help, he would comprehend his brother's present anxiety.

"Ed, not again! Let go! What's the matter with you?!"

"Peter, stay here with Lucy. I'll get the food, but let _me _go, please! I…I don't like this."

"Don't like _what_, Edmund? Now, release my hand before I starve, will you?" He laughed at his own joke, but the younger boy didn't think it funny.

A situation like the one at hand only came about when a fight was about to be had; he knew it, and somewhere in his heart, Peter did, too. Oh, it wasn't that he minded getting hurt on Peter's behalf--Lion's Mane, it had been like second nature to him in Narnia! No, what bothered him was sending Lucy and Susan further into their desperate despair and isolation, respectively. More than any of that, though, he wanted his brother _safe_.

"Peter—"

"Ed, it'll be all right without me for a few minutes. I'll be back very soon, I swear." Removing the smaller hand from his uniform with an aggravatingly patronizing smile, he lightly tossed the appendage to lie motionlessly in the boy's lap. Sighing, Edmund watched his brother go, the heaviness of his heart reflecting with each beat.

Twenty minutes later, and he was still not back; twenty minutes later, and the Just King felt as if he was having a heart attack. Heartbeat erratic, hands clammy, sweat wetting his brow, he couldn't take it anymore. Somewhere, Peter was in trouble, and he needed to be there.

Shaking Lucy gently, but urgently, she slowly woke up, rubbing her closed eyes and yawning.

"Is the train here?"

"No, Lucy." At the sound of his shaky voice, her eyes snapped open, and she was fully aroused. Grasping his hand tightly in her petite one, she gazed worriedly into his face.

"What happened?! Where is he?!" The source of his fear did not require any sort of identification; in all of his years, there had been but a sole thing to make him so vulnerable, and that was Peter.

He could only shake his head in dismay.

"I don't know. He went off to buy food about twenty minutes ago. I begged him not to go, but he did, and I— Lu, I need you to get Susan and bring her back here. I'm going to try to find Peter." Her eyes clouded and face paled; she knew what that normally meant. Standing hastily, she kissed him on the cheek.

"Be careful."

"Always."

Satisfied, she turned and sprinted out of the station, her brother going in the opposite direction.

Too panicked to look before running across the street, she was almost hit by a car in the process. With a speedy apology to the startled driver, she made it to the sidewalk and rushed to her sister's side, plowing between her and a boy she'd never seen as they talked.

"Susan!" Trying to gather what breath she could in about the second she allowed herself to rest, the boy eyed her, concerned. While touched by his compassion, she was almost sad she hadn't the time to assure him that she would be fine. Locking eyes with her sister, the horrible words once again defiled her mouth, as they had an insane number of times since coming home. "You'd better come quickly. He's fighting again!"

The black-haired beauty's features were marred by a mixed expression of fright and disappointed frustration, and she nodded to the boy politely in departure before taking her sister's hand. Ever the practical one, she glanced left and right in the blink of an eye prior to racing across the busy street and hurriedly descending into the station.

They didn't have to go far to find Peter. On the stairs landing, there was a giant crowd of age-ranging students, all of them shouting and some pumping fists into the air. As they cut closer to the middle of the assembly, they were not at all surprised to see their eldest brother in the possession of two boys around his age.

Another pair suddenly surged forward and began attacking him with punches to the stomach. Biting her lip, Lucy closed her eyes to the tears gathering in them, to the screams emitting from her brother's mouth at the progressively bruised flesh. She opened her eyes, however, as a raven head of hair moved past her vision, and she recognized his form instantly.

"Edmund!" He didn't stop, and even if he had heard her over the despicably immature noise of the surrounding children, she knew it wouldn't have changed anything. He wouldn't let Peter be harmed any further if he could prevent it, and though he was no longer armed with a fierce blade at the powerful age of twenty-five, he was still the Just King.

He tackled both of the boys injuring Peter at once, sending all three of them crashing to the cement ground; they were unsuspecting bowling pins to the enraged bowling ball. One quickly stood and, pompous anger in his eyes, forcefully thrust the slighter Edmund into the wall, the other picking himself up and giving him a good punch to the temple to momentarily incapacitate him.

In their next course of action, they made a dreaded mistake. Three of the boys lunged at Peter and threw him to the ground, caging him as they kicked him mercilessly in the back and injured abdomen. He cried out in pain, doing his best to protect his head with his arms and attempt to stand in order to fight back at the same time.

Edmund gave birth to a war cry, and the three unsurprisingly froze--the boy had once obtained the attention of an entire battlefield with a howl like that. He dove for them, getting one to the ground and struggling to take down the two his brother had fought earlier. They were much stronger, and abruptly, he found himself being forced backward. He fell and smacked the back of his already pounding head on the last stair.

It was at that moment that shrill whistles were heard and two soldiers ran for the scene. The other students scattered, but Susan and Lucy stayed where they were. Edmund carefully moved into a sitting position before bracing himself against the wall as he tried to stand. The first soldier to arrive, clearly having seen more warfare than the second, shoved an anger-ridden Peter with fury in his own eyes and hollered for him to act his age.

Oh, but if only the man knew how much they wished they could.

All in all, Edmund came out with an egg on the backside of his head, a few, strewn bruises, and a headache. Peter was black and blue on his stomach and back, and his school shirt was dirty and torn.

As for the girls, they didn't know what to say. They were not proud of Peter, but that was nothing new; they knew Edmund just wanted to help, and he was, but they hated that he put himself in the front lines for someone so completely unworthy. They loved Peter, they truly, truly did, but…sometimes, he just didn't _see_.

When the pinching and pulling began a short while later, when the train station ripped apart and vanished before their eyes to reveal a cave, one opening to a white, sunbathed beach, they rejoiced. They ran down the sandy expanse, splashing in the seawater and throwing their heads back to soak up as much wonderful sunlight as they could, their hearts singing like they hadn't in a year.

They knew where they were, all right.

They knew they had finally returned to Narnia.

They knew they were _home_.

All too suddenly, Edmund, Lucy, and Susan noticed their eldest sibling's silence. They turned to look at him.

Drinking in the landscape of waves, sand, Sun, his family, he seemed altered.

For that one, beautiful minute, tears entered his eyes and streamed down his cheeks as he covered his mouth with one hand. Through it all, he smiled.

For that one, beautiful minute, he was himself again. He was their _High King _again.

They had missed him dearly.

* * *

They released silent sighs of relief. The soldiers had been chased off, and their freshly rescued charge was presently coughing up the seawater that had invaded his lungs. When he finished at last, he turned to them.

By any of their subjects, they would have been instantly recognized for who they were and welcomed warmly upon their return. Therefore, they were shell-shocked and confused when he showed them an indignant expression. The smiles fell from their faces; that couldn't be a good sign.

"_Drop him_?! That's the best you can come up with?" The little man eyed Susan severely, and she stuttered her response. She never had been one for combative situations.

"A—a simple thank you would suffice." Pointing his stubby finger to where the soldiers had held him captive in their boat only seconds earlier, he roared at her.

"They were doing fine drowning me without your help!" Defending his sister was just part of the reason Peter broke the flow of the conversation by speaking. They'd saved his life of their own volition—indeed, as an inborn instinct of the Kings and Queens to any and all Narnians—and he had the audacity to be _complaining_?! Who did this Red Dwarf think he was?!

"Maybe we should have let them."

With that uncomplicated, icy utterance, Susan, Lucy, and Edmund looked at each other.

They'd lost him again. Their High King was but a perfect memory once more.

* * *

Even after he returned to them permanently, the Valiant, Gentle, and Just cherished that minute on the beach below the ruins of Cair Paravel.

It had been the first burst of hope they'd seen in six months.

For one minute, they'd had their brother back.

It had been enough.

* * *

_A/N: _I changed when Peter's fights begin from two months since they've been home to a week at the last minute, so if you see anything that needs to be fixed with that, let me know, please! Thanks! Rock on!


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